


The Truth Hurts

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Phone Booth (2002)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Dirty Talk, First Time, Hostage Situations, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Phone Calls & Telephones, Protective Credence Barebone, Protective Original Percival Graves, Snipers, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29113596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: Hiding who he is for thirty years has come at a price for Percival Graves. Trapped in a phone booth by a sniper trying to force him to confess his sins, he knows the end is near and all he can hope is that his assistant Credence isn't there to see it when he's shot. But there is still hope for a happy ending...if he has the courage to reach out and take it.[Or, the Gradence Phone Booth AU that got too Feelsy for Kinktober.]
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves, Original Percival Graves/Seraphina Picquery (mentioned), Original Percival Graves/Theseus Scamander (Past)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	The Truth Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys ^_^ This is another one that's been "in the vault" for a while, and I finally decided, hell with it, why not post it? :)
> 
> This one is a little on the intense side. If you've seen Phone Booth you know: he's trapped in a phone booth by a hostile sniper and in very real danger.
> 
> TWs for death threats, police violence (offscreen and minimal, no brutality), forced sexual situations (Graves is forced to dirty-talk to Credence by the Caller), and PTSD/trauma recovery. Proceed with caution if any of that will bother you <

_ “You did this to yourself, Percival. You know you did.” _

Graves is too exhausted to cry or beg or scream anymore. The first hour he did all of it and it did no good. He knows he’s going to die today. He’s accepted it. 

He just hopes Credence isn’t going to see it. He hopes that he’s in class when it happens, giggling at something funny his professor said or passing a note to a cute co-ed. Anything but watching the news. Just, please God, don’t let Credence be watching the news when it happens—

_ “You brought it on yourself,” _ the Caller continues mercilessly.  _ “You brought it on yourself by looking at your cute little assistant, wanting to  _ fuck _ him, taking off your wedding ring every time you went to meet him. Tell me, Percival, was looking at his hot little ass worth your life?” _

“Don’t fucking talk about Credence,” he says through gritted teeth. “I told you, beat up on me all you want but you fucking leave him out of it.”

_ “If you’re upset about him, it’s your own fault. Tell me, how long have you wanted to stick your cock in that pretty ass of his? How many times have you looked at his cute little twink face and thought about how good it would feel to shoot your load into that beautiful, pouty mouth, hmm? Tell me, Percival. How long have you wanted to put your tongue up his—” _

“Shut up,” he begs. “Just shut the fuck up. Just fucking shoot me if you’re going to. I can’t do this anymore.”

_ “Oh, Percival…we’re just getting started.” _

~

(He is seven years old and the first time he holds hands is with the boy who sits next to him on the bus home from school.

He likes it, a lot. He likes the feeling of another’s hand around his, of a head nuzzling into his shoulder. When you’re kids it’s all innocent, all soft, and no one looks twice, they laugh,  _ they’re kids it’s so cute, _ and as a few years drift by it becomes less cute, more  _ stop doing that you look like a sissy. _

He learns to hide it, and that same boy kisses him for the first time when they are ten, and it’s sweet, soft lips against his and a tentative hand on his shoulder.

The boy is a little taller than him and he likes that, and they watch movies their parents don’t know they’re seeing in a blanket fort after dark, and they might get a little scared and he learns he likes it when the boy kisses his face before snuggling up to his chest, whispering  _ we’ll protect each other from the monsters, Percy. _

And he doesn’t know anything, he’s only ten, he knows people get annoyed when boys hold hands and hug their friends but he doesn’t care because it feels good and he likes the soft, warm feeling he gets inside when he is held, and it’s not until his friend comes to school with a bloody nose and says  _ I’m not allowed to play with you anymore _ and he goes home and his mom gives him a sorrowful look as she says  _ we need to talk _ that he realizes how  _ bad _ it all is.)

~

_ “You’re in this position because you’re not telling the truth.” _

“I’m in this position because you have a fucking gun,” Graves shoots back, exasperated.

He really isn’t sure how much more he can take. For that matter he’s not sure how much more Capt. Tina Goldstein, the poor cop they’ve sent to coax him out of the booth, can take. She’s come over about eight times and tried to get him out of there, and every time he’s been forced to say horrible things to her, which he has, through gritted teeth and numb lips. Trying so hard,  _ so hard, _ to tell her with his eyes that he means none of it, that if they met in the street he would be kind to her, that she is really very pretty and very nice and he thinks under any other circumstances he would like her.

_ “How about this. We’ll play a game. I’ll tell you what to say, and if you say it word for word, I might let you out of the booth. How does that sound?” _

“I’d love to tie you to the back of a truck. That’s what sounds good to me.”

_ “Oh, I’m sure you would. But I think that’ll have to wait. Look who’s here!” _

Oh God. It’s his worst nightmare.

“Credence!” he screams, not caring if it gets him a bullet to the head. “Credence, run away! Get out of here, go,  _ go! _ You’re not safe here sweetheart, go!”

He cringes as the  _ sweetheart _ leaves his mouth. He’s never called Credence that before and he knows he’s only doing it now because he’s about to die. But he regrets it heartily, because it confuses Credence just enough to make him stop, a few yards from the booth, just behind the yellow tape. Well within sniping range.

He looks at Graves through bewildered eyes, mouthing  _ are you okay? _ and no, no, Graves is  _ not _ okay. “Go,” he pleads. “Credence, just get out of here. You can’t help me kid, just  _ go!” _

But Credence has always been loyal to a fault. He stands there, briefcase still over his shoulder, looking innocently at Graves as if to say  _ well, I’m here, might as well let me help. _

“No,” Graves breathes, leaning back against the unshattered wall of the booth. “No, no, no,  _ no. _ Not him, never him…” His legs feel like water. He wonders if he passes out, if he will ever wake up again. Or if the man will just shoot him in the head right then and there.

~

(He is 17, in his last year of high school, and he has a girlfriend, a perky little cheerleader who obligingly sucks him off in closets or under bleachers on the condition that he take her to prom, and he lets that be enough because it has to be. It doesn’t give him that same softly-warmed pleasure that he felt when holding hands or cuddling with his childhood best friend but those days are over now, that’s  _ bad, _ so he’ll have to settle for this.

And of course his luck being what it is, this is when he falls in love.

Theo Scamander is hot and smart and popular and he doesn’t seem to care if anyone knows he might be  _ bad, _ he lets them tease him and doesn’t mind if they call him names as long as they still let him be the kicker on the varsity football team.

He’s in love when they partner up for a physics assignment and he’s in love when he cheers Theo on at homecoming and he’s in love when Theo draws him into the basement after a party and lays him out and  _ touches him _ and it feels so good he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He comes embarrassingly quickly and Theo is still kind, still gentle with him, and he doesn’t break up with his girlfriend because he  _ can’t _ and Theo understands, and tells him sweet good things like  _ I’m here _ and  _ we’ll be okay _ and  _ when you’re ready _ and  _ I’ll look after you. _

But he takes his girlfriend to prom and denies it like Peter denying Jesus when Theo tries to tell his parents they’re together. But the damage is done, it gets out in school, and he graduates denying with every breath that he is gay. Summer is tense and he goes to college relieved to not have to lie anymore.

And then the very first week of classes, popular sophomore Seraphina Picquery flirts with him, sends an envoy in the form of her best friend to inform him he is welcome to ask her out, and the charade begins all over again.)

~

_ “Look him in the eyes now, Percival. That’s it. Now if you say exactly what I do, I will  _ think about _ letting you go. If you don’t…” _ A red dot appears on Credence’s tie, and Graves’ knees nearly give out.  _ “Well. I think I’ve made my point.” _

“You sick bastard,” Graves chokes, bile rising in his throat. “I can’t—Jesus Christ, I can’t believe you think you’re  _ better _ than me.”

_ “At least now you’re being honest,” _ the Caller replies smugly.  _ “Now, repeat after me, word for word now, no trying to soften it up. ‘Credence, I want to fuck you.’” _ The red dot dances, and Graves stares at it, sick and transfixed.  _ “I’ll count to three, Percival. Don’t make me—” _

For a second he’s not sure he can get the words out. And then he does, staring at Credence with  _ I’m sorry _ pulsing through his veins. “Credence,” he manages, his voice hoarse and broken, “I want to fuck you.”

_ “‘I’d rather fuck you than my wife.’” _

Graves can’t hold back a sob. “I’d rather fuck you than my wife,” he repeats, and oh God, he wants to die,  _ he wants to die, _ the look of shock in his boy’s pretty eyes is more than he can take. “I want to fuck you like the pretty whore I see you as,” he echoes dully, the Caller’s words like a brand in his ear. “I want to pin you to the wall and spank your cute little ass, and then shove you onto your knees and make you choke on my cock.” Tears are pouring down Credence’s face, he looks utterly crushed, and Graves wants to fucking  _ die. _ “I want to come in your mouth and watch my spunk drip down your chin. I want you to swallow it and then I want you to jerk yourself off while I watch.”

_ I’m going to kill myself if this motherfucker doesn’t do it for me, _ Graves thinks, watching as Credence turns his head away, his thin shoulders shaking with sobs.

~

(He goes out with Seraphina Picquery for all four years of college, then proposes to her on his graduation day. She squeals and hops around and then feigns dignity as he puts the ring on her finger.

Her parents pay for a blowout wedding with all their rich powerful friends invited and photographers and press there because they want her photo in the society page of the newspaper. He doesn’t really like sleeping with her but he likes being around her, because she’s quick and lively and it’s fun to match wits with her and he likes being with someone who likes him and not his body.

He hasn’t been in love since Theo and he doesn’t think he’ll ever really enjoy sex unless he cheats and he  _ could _ do that, but he won’t. The risk of losing everything if he gets caught is too great and he can’t do that, can’t lose what he’s built.

He’s good at talking and it gets him a job with Sera’s dad, an agent, and he learns the inner workings of the celebrity world, learns how to play diplomat and learns how to sell himself as much as his clients. He moves quickly through the world of celebrity publicists and gets promotions the way some people get parking tickets and if he is lonely, if he has to picture something else while making love to his wife in order to  _ get there, _ well. That’s no one’s cross to bear but his.)

~

And then: a miracle.

The words have stopped having any meaning, and Graves is repeating them on autopilot, unable to force any emotion into the words no matter how the Caller threatens him. “I want to whip your slutty ass with a riding crop until you scream,” he says tonelessly, “and then shove my fingers in your mouth to shut you up, finger you open with your own saliva, and fuck you until you bleed. And then I want to piss in your mouth while I choke you with my belt.”

_ It’s not true, _ some distant, desperate part of his mind begs him to say.  _ It’s not true, sweetheart. I want to lay you out on my bed like a feast to be savored. I want to kiss and caress every inch of you, make you feel as beautiful as you are. I want to make you feel so good you forget what it is to be in pain. _

He almost feels hope when he sees that Capt. Goldstein is no longer watching Graves with the appalled look she had at the start. Instead, she is looking very closely at Credence. He can practically  _ see _ the moment she notices the red dot. She ducks away, and Graves thinks distantly that if she at least gets Credence out of here before he dies, it will make her a hero of the highest order.

_ “I think that’s enough,” _ the Caller says smugly when he sees that Credence is openly sobbing, no longer looking at Graves, his face buried in his trembling hands.  _ “Now tell them, ‘I’m a sick old queer fucker and I deserve to die.’” _

At last, Graves thinks dully, something he can say that’s true. “I am a sick old queer fucker and I deserve to die,” he murmurs, and believes it.

And that, of all things, is what makes Credence look up. His eyes are burning red and his face is so white Graves is surprised the poor kid hasn’t fainted yet. He looks as broken as Graves feels, and it absolutely shatters what’s left of Graves’ numb, tired heart. The Caller laughs in his ear.  _ “I think the kid has feelings for you, Percival. Look at that, you just told him you want to do such shocking, disgusting things to him and he’s still worried about you.” _

Graves is too exhausted to even try to snipe back at him. “Will you kill me now?” he whispers. “Please. I can’t do this. Just kill me and be done with it. But just—just wait until Goldstein turns him around or something, okay? Don’t make him watch. I’m the one you want, not him.”

_ “Mmm. I’ll do one better. Reach up into the corner of the booth and get out that gun. Do it now, or I’ll shoot the kid. I mean it, Percival. You do as I say, or Credence dies.” _

Graves immediately reaches for the gun. “You don’t have to threaten him,” he says softly. “I’ll do whatever you want. Please just…don’t hurt him.”

“Mr. Graves?” Graves looks up in shock and drops his hands to his side. Capt. Goldstein is back, her hands held up away from her gun. “Easy there,” she says gently. “I just want you to know, we understand now, all right? You’re having a bad day, aren’t you? Feels like every move you make could be the last. You’re on the edge. We understand.”

She’s trying to tell him something. But he can’t think anymore. He doesn’t know what she wants him to do. All he knows is that if he doesn’t do what the man on the other line wants, Credence will die. “I don’t think so,” is all he can say.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Capt. Goldstein tells him emphatically. “You just keep talking to your shrink, okay?” (That’s who he told them was on the phone. He doubts they believed him, but maybe Tina does.) “You just keep talking. We know where you’re at now, okay? You just do what you need to do, and we’ll do what we need to do. But it’s safe now, you understand? You’re safe.”

_ “This bitch is as crazy as you are,”  _ the Caller says on the other end of the line, sounding mildly exasperated. 

But something clicks in Graves’ foggy, pain-soaked mind.  _ We know where you’re at. _ They’ve traced the call! Hope sings in his heart for the briefest moment.

But—no—play it carefully. If the man thinks he’s caught, he will kill.

~

(He is the best publicist in the company, and they give him his choice of assistant. The sweet little thing who creeps into his office with tears in his eyes, a network of red scars burning on his hands, tugs at his heartstrings. It’s clear Credence is a good worker, and he is desperate for approval.

Graves hires the kid. Then he goes home and goes through the motions of fucking Sera, closes his eyes and pretends she’s Credence. He takes off his wedding ring before he goes to work. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t clients to know about his personal life.

He asks one day,  _ why did your mother kick you out, _ and Credence bursts into tears.  _ I ran away, Mr. Graves, _ he sobs.  _ I ran away before she could kill me. _

He takes Credence to a motel that afternoon and spends the whole time rubbing aloe gel into the still-healing wounds on his back, then a layer of cocoa butter to make the scars fade as they heal. He holds the boy as he cries, he kisses away the tears and soothes his anxiety, tells Credence  _ it’s okay darling, it’s all right, I won’t abandon you. _

Credence asks if he is gay too. He says,  _ you don’t need to know that, _ and thinks about the wedding ring in his pocket.

He takes the kid to a diner and feeds him. He wants to take the boy home and make love to him. He wants, oh God, there is so much he wants. And he can have none of it. Instead, he gives Credence his personal number and says,  _ call me anytime. _ And he means it.)

~

_ “If you confess,” _ the Caller tells him,  _ “I will let Credence go. Maybe I’ll even let you go.” _

“Confess what,” Graves says hollowly. “You already made me spill my dirty fantasies, remember?”

_ “In your own words. Confess. Do it now, while I’m still in a generous mood.” _

Seraphina is glaring at him, and he knows she will never let him back in the house if he survives, will never again let him sleep in her bed. She will never believe that he said what he said under duress. She is likely going to divorce him. He’s all right with that.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her anyway. “I’m—” His eyes flick to Credence, who is still in tears. “I’m gay,” he tells the crowd at large. He zeroes in on Seraphina again, who looks as if she is hardly surprised by this news. “I’m gay, and I married you because I thought I could fake it and I can’t. And I thought I could be a man for you, I’m sorry, I—I  _ can’t.” _

With that out of the way he turns his eyes to Credence. “And I lied to you, about being married, about everything. God, I lie to everyone. My clients, my wife, my friends—I dress like an asshole, I wear three hundred dollar shoes so I can pretend I’m a better man than I am—my watch? It’s a fake. It’s a goddamn fake, just like me. But there’s one thing I didn’t lie about, sweetheart.”

Credence’s hand goes to his mouth, his eyes going wide at the name, and— _ hope. _ Hope boils up inside Graves like Old Faithful about to erupt. He knows better. He knows he’s not going to make it. But he tells Credence everything, as if he  _ is, _ as if this can be their new beginning.

“I love you,” he says, and his throat nearly closes. “Everything I said just now, about wanting to fuck you like a whore—that was a lie too, and I’m sorry you had to hear it.” Ignoring the hissed  _ careful, Percival _ in his ear he goes on, “I want to take you out, treat you like a goddamn prince. I want to hold you every night, I want you to come to me when you’re hurt, I want everything for you. I want the world for you, sweetheart. I love you. God, I love you.”

Credence sobs again, but when the hand drops away from his face Graves can see a smile there.  _ I love you too, _ he mouths, and—

And Goldstein catches his eye and nods. And Graves can’t help but gasp.  _ “What is it?”  _ the Caller says smugly.  _ “Figured it out, have you?” _

“You aren’t going to let me go.” The hope drains away. There’s no way he can stall this asshole long enough for the SWAT team to get there. “You aren’t—I don’t care.” He means it. “I don’t care. Kill me, just don’t hurt Credence.”

The Caller laughs.  _ “It’s going to be such a pleasure to shoot you, Percival. Want to take one last look at your—wait a minute. Where’s the bitchy cop going?” _

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. “The fuck should I know? Look, just shoot me already!”

_ “Oh, no. You told her, didn’t you? She’s not crazy, she figured it out! Well, guess what. If I’m going out, I’m taking someone with me. And since you care more about the kid than you do yourself—” _

No. He can’t let that happen.

The gun in the corner of the booth, the one planted by the sick fucker on the other end of the line, is in his hand.

He bursts out of the booth, pointing it at the sky and screaming to the heavens—

Until something knocks him off his feet and he collapses unconscious to the ground.

~

He does not die.

He is told later, when he comes back to himself in a hospital, that it took him four days to speak again after he was rescued, after Tina Goldstein shot him with a rubber bullet to distract the Caller.

He is told that they caught the man, that he tried to pin it on someone else, but Credence saw someone who looked suspicious and whispered to Tina,  _ that’s the man who dialled me from a blocked number to tell me to come downtown. _ And they got him.

He is told that he was catatonic, that he was broken. That no one could coax a word out of him. That he didn’t speak and barely moved, that everyone was afraid his mind was lost.

That the only time his eyes seemed to  _ see _ was not when his wife came to see him, but when a NYPD cop escorted in a gentle, anxious young man with raven hair and sympathetic eyes.

That the first thing he said when he came back to life, even if he doesn’t remember it, was,  _ where’s Credence, is he okay? _

~

Credence is the one who comes to get him when he is released from the hospital, three weeks after he wakes up. He hasn’t been allowed any visitors save family, of which he now has none, and even Tina couldn’t pull enough rank to get herself and Credence back into the closed ward.

“Do you remember everything?” Credence asks as they drive away.

Graves sighs and reaches out to him, and Credence takes the hint and squeezes his hand over the gearshift. “I remember everything up to getting shot,” he says. He runs his hand over his eyes and sighs. “Not you coming to visit me, I’m afraid. It was like I passed out in the street and woke up in the psych ward.”

Credence lets him go. “I…I rode with you in the ambulance,” he says tentatively. “You apologized. And you cried. A lot.”

Frankly, Graves is thankful he doesn’t remember that. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He winces as the words slip out. “I—fuck.”

Credence pulls over and leans over the gearshift to kiss him, and Graves freezes, his mind a blank slate again, too shocked to question it. “I love you too,” Credence says softly when he pulls away. “I loved you from day one. I would’ve said something, but I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I was just scared, I guess.”

“I was married,” Graves reminds him, his throat raw, his eyes burning.

“You think I didn’t know that? I saw the ring the first day.”

“Then why—”

“Did you love her?”

“No.”

“That’s why.”

~

“I want you to do something for me,” Graves whispers to Credence two hours later, when they’re in the middle of a frantic make-out session on Credence’s futon in his tiny studio apartment.

Credence buries his face in Graves’ neck, taking deep whiffs of his scent as if trying to memorize it. “Anything.”

“Please, talk to me while we do this.” Graves wets his lips nervously as Credence pulls back and looks at him in surprise. “I mean—I want you to talk dirty to me. If you can. I—he said the most disgusting—the  _ worst _ things, I—I just—I don’t want that to be ruined. I want to hear your voice instead. Please.”

It’s not an odd thing to ask for, he knows, but his heart is racing and he feels achingly raw and exposed.  _ Please don’t judge me for needing this. _

Credence nestles deeper into Graves’ arms, buries his face more firmly in his neck. “I’ll do anything you want, but…I don’t really know what to say.”

“Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

And oh, Credence does.

_ Take my clothes off. Slowly. Yes, just like that.  _ He rolls over onto his belly.  _ Kiss my back. Touch me there. I want you to touch every scar. I want you to make me forget how I got them. _ It starts off like that, sweet and romantic.  _ I want to feel you over me. I want to remember you’re alive. You’re so warm, God you’re so warm, it feels so good. _

He rolls over onto his back, moans as Graves licks up the curve of his neck, his tone turns breathless as he gets bolder.  _ Put your fingers in me. Suck my cock. Make me come. Add another finger. I want four fingers in me, Percy. Right now. Ooh, yes, just like that—oh God I’m going to come again. _

His voice turns rough, almost guttural as Graves slides into him.  _ Fuck, yes, just like that. Oh God your cock feels so good inside me. I want you to split me open. I want to feel you for days when we’re done. God, yes, just like that, fuck me, fill me up, I want to feel your cum dripping down my legs when we’re done. _

And it works, it  _ works. _ It’s more than enough to take the bad memories away, because Credence sounds so needy and so raw, so very different from the gleeful sadism that saturated the words the Caller fed him, and Graves loves this, loves every bit of it because he has never felt this alive before.

“I love you,” he breathes against Credence’s neck as he comes inside him, gasping in pleasure when he feels Credence trembling against him and coming again, his nails pressing into Graves back as he sobs out a choked  _ I love you too. _

~

He does not, through some miracle, lose his job.

He does lose his wife, but his own boss manages to spin it to the press to make it look like she abandoned him.  _ Poor guy, it wasn’t his fault, he was taken captive and forced to say those things. She left him. Poor thing needed nurturing and love after an ordeal like that, now he’s alone, sweet little thing, look at him, look at those puppy eyes, how could you hurt a face like that? _

It doesn’t go away, the dark memory of his time in the booth. It would be nice if making love to Credence were all it took to ease his pain and anxiety, but that’s not the case, and it takes a  _ lot, _ a lot of sessions with a therapist and a lot of trial and error with various anti-anxiety meds, before he’s able to answer a ringing phone without his heart wanting to explode out of his chest.

But when he wakes from nightmares about bullets and breaking glass it’s always Credence who strokes his hair and soothes him back to sleep. “I love you,” he always says as he comforts his trembling boyfriend. “I’m here, Percy. He didn’t get me.”

Credence is the first one since Theo to call Graves  _ Percy, _ and that’s how he knows it’s love.

~

Maybe there are loose ends.

Maybe he could have been more honest. Maybe he could have been kinder in the aftermath, when Sera screamed at him for being an asshole and he screamed back  _ I almost bloody died, woman! _ Maybe he could’ve made fewer mistakes.

But maybe it was all worth it. No, definitely it was all worth it, he has Credence. He  _ has _ Credence, and Credence has him, and he is  _ in love. _ Credence is so gentle and so sweet and it’s like a balm for his heart, to be allowed to hold this angel and to be held by him. 

For the first time since he was ten he can be vulnerable with another person without shame, and he likes the way that feels. And maybe if he ever saw that caller again he’d thank the bastard for holding him hostage, because thanks to those terrifying hours in the phone booth, he now spends every night in the arms of the love of his life, and that might just be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Like Gradence or Colin Farrell? Hit me up on Tumblr or Twitter @CupcakeFoggy, we'll geek out together ^_^


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